The Order Of Chaos: Origins
by Adc canhead
Summary: The tale of the formation of the Order of Chaos, led by the tiefling Abdel 'Fireblade'. Be prepared to meet some familiar faces, as well as being introduced to several new ones, as you accompany them on their earliest adventures.
1. How it all Began

The Order of Chaos

_DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, not even the names of any of my characters; they're all based on my closest friends. _

_I feel I must also make it clear that I did __**not**__ steal the name of Abdel, it came up on a random name generator when I first played and then it stuck, some luck huh? _

First off I should tell you that my name is Abdel, no association to the great Abdel Adrian. My companions and I form an adventuring troupe based in Western Faerun known as the order of Chaos- and I'll tell you how we came up with that name later in my tale. I'm going to start by telling you the story of how we all got together, and I'll try to keep things as simple as possible.

Since this all started with me, it's only appropriate that I start with my story. I'll skim over the boring details of my life and tell you as much of the interesting stuff as possible.

Abdel's Story

First thing to know is I'm a tiefling, but I'm lucky in that it doesn't show very much. I have bright violet eyes, and _really _hard skin, so that brings its own advantages. I was born in Beregost, but it's hardly fair to say I was raised there. When I hit puberty and the signs of my heritage began to show, my birth father disowned me, and even before that the other children were unnerved by my unnatural abilities. I went south, to Nashkel, but this was before the Iron Crisis hit, and it really was a prosperous little town back then, with its own highly trained militia. Needless to say, unlike my 'father', the good people of Nashkel had no moral qualms about siccing the guards on me, so I fled, down the Sword Coast.

I lived like this for a few years, but as I was only a child, the people initially only wanted me out of their towns. That all changed once I reached adulthood. I lived in the general vicinity of the Gate in my youth, going as far north as Ulgoth's Beard, but never daring to enter the big city itself. I was able to settle in Gullykin for a year when I was fifteen- the halflings there, no strangers to persecution themselves, allowed me to stay a while on the grounds that I make myself useful. Thus I joined their (limited) militia. I daresay it was a boon for them to have a full-sized humanoid in their ranks, and I quickly rose through the ranks. Eventually I was training the rest of them, and I became a damned good swordsman- add that to the fact that my hard skin is virtually impenetrable to mundane weapons, and I became champion of the fighting circles there, earning respect and a good deal of gold. For the first time in my life, I felt as though I belonged somewhere.

Of course, all good things come to an end, and I was displaced once more by the Iron Crisis (Abdel Adrian still owes me one for that, along with my part in Bodhi's downfall and the fact that we share a birth name). When mercenaries came to Gullykin, I was attacked because they thought _I_ was the Bhaalspawn Abdel. Mistaken identity really does suck. That was the day I killed my first man, and noticed to an extent the dormant chaotic powers in my blood. The first assailant cornered me behind a warehouse and cut my left arm open before I could react, but then in his hurry to finish me he thrust himself upon my blade. The shocking thing was that the blood flowed from his open wound into mine, sealing the injury. I was disgusted with myself for my newfound power- it seemed grossly unnatural- evil, even. I found that the rest of the militia had killed or driven off the other assassins, but the Halflings forced me out again, assuming that with me gone, there would be no more attacks (and now also under the impression that I was Bhaalspawn).

Of course, the rest of that story is history- the attacks continued, and I'll bet they were sorry I was gone after that. After that I left Baldur's gate behind, travelling south through Amn, skirting around the major settlements like Athkatla and Trademeet. I would stop for the night in small villages, sneaking in when the townsfolk were asleep. Often I met with a fairly rude awakening, and since I was now an adult, the ravenous mobs were no longer content with letting me escape unharmed- once again I was on the run with nobody to turn to. I was hoping to make it as far as Calimshan, and then book passage to the jungles of Chult, where I could live out my days in peace- but such fantasies are merely dreams and illusions.

When I reached the Tethyr Road, everything changed- I was cornered by hundreds of well-trained soldiers, but instead of killing me, they took me to their leader. Turns out I'd run into a detachment of the Flaming Fist company- a renegade detachment. These pleasant fellows were carving out a name for themselves along the southern border of Amn, controlling trade and recruiting (often forcefully) anybody who looked like they might be handy with a blade.

I was immediately taken before Garilios Dosan, their leader, and tested. As I proved to be a formidable fighter, bested in the circles only by Garilios himself, I was inducted. Now, while others might have resented this, I was glad of the opportunity to be raised properly, in a community. The other men were boisterous and loud, but affable enough, and Garilios was like a father to me- taking me under his wing and training me to perfect my fighting style. Nobody asked any questions about my heritage, caring only about my skill as a warrior and my personality.

Once again I had a life of security and familiarity, yet once again I was unsettled and my life ruined. After three years of working with the Renegade Fists, my family was torn apart. I had only recently turned twenty, (at this point the 'camp' more closely resembled a village) and I was meditating in my quarters when I heard a shout from within, and many more from outside. I opened up my window to see what was happening and was greeted with the harsh smells of smoke and death. The sounds of battle echoed in the distance. Shortly before I withdrew my head from the open window, an arrow struck my cheek and shattered harmlessly against my steely skin.

By this point adrenaline was surging through my body; I fumbled to unlatch my door and rush down into the main hall of my home, and was astounded to see my adoptive 'true' father in battle. He was truly astonishing. Wielding his enchanted 'Fireblade', he cut down his foes in all directions, sweeping out their legs and purging them of their lives with the magical fire. I recognised them as mercenaries from the Black Talons- unscrupulous bastards, all of them. Still, they posed little threat to my father, the flames blinding them and the heat draining them of all resistance. His magical blade would subsequently shear through their armour as though it were paper. After a few minutes, when all lay dead, the stench of evaporating blood filling the air, my father turned to me, the flames on his blade dying as he spoke.

"Abdel, things are escalating out of control here. The Tenhammer has come for us. He is strong, possibly too strong for either of us to defeat… there is a good chance that I may be killed-"

"Father, don't even consider saying that, you will grind this man into the dirt!"

"No, I fear that you are wrong. He is a foe beyond my ken, and he has many powerful associates. I pray you; do not make an enemy of him. Listen to me. If the unthinkable should happen… If I should be slain, you must take my blade and flee to the forest of Tethyr. You will be safe there, a community of elves will take you in- their chieftain is a close friend of mine"

As I considered his words, I looked into my father's face for what would be the last time, he was a handsome man, his bronze skin and chiselled features betraying nothing of the raucous life of debauchery he led with his men. His eyes were of liquid amber, and through them I grasped the desperation of the situation. He was afraid. I had never seen him so moved to fear.

"Very well father, I-

Before I could even acquiesce to his request, the doors, hastily barricaded with chairs, tables and the corpses of the dead, splintered. My father straightened, prepared to meet his end at the hands of who- or what- ever was breaking in. Again the doors crashed, a chink of light spilled in from outside, I could see an eye, bloodshot with the fervor of battle. As I backed away, there was a final crash, and a head burst through the oak doors. I recognised him as Harben, a good man, part of my company. Blood was congealing all over the right side of his face. He was very, very dead. The attempts to breach the door picked up now, with multiple impacts against the doors. Then, suddenly, they stopped.

A gruff voice cut in, "you pathetic fools, move out of the way, Tenhammer will show you how this is done."

There was a chilling scream, then, a great siege hammer crashed through the doors. Again and again, the hammerhead smashed through, until finally the bolts snapped and the doors swung open. Harben's corpse slid down to the floor, to be trampled by the louts who had stolen his life.

Then I beheld Taurgosz 'Tenhammer' Khosann for the first time. He was a mammoth brute of a man, half-orcish judging by his contorted facial appearance. His eyes burned with hatred for all who stood to oppose him, his demeanour was that of a thug, and even his armour was crude and hastily made from interlocking plates. As his men stood aside, he brought his hammer down repeatedly on the barricade materials, shattering them. Then he dropped his massive weapon and drew a viciously recurved, serrated scimitar.

Pushing his way through the wreckage, he shouted a challenge to my father… who was only too eager to accept. As they clashed blades, about five of Taurgosz's men stormed in, clambering over what remained of the doors. They were pursued by a handful of surviving Renegades. Taurgosz casually turned from my father and cut out the throats of two men behind him, then spun to face my father, parrying a sweeping attack aimed to cut out his legs from beneath him. My father, however, was no fool either, and so he spun away, just avoiding being caught between Taurgosz and one of his men. He then continued his attack, spinning once more to place himself behind the black talon merc and sending his blade cleanly through the man's midriff. Taurgosz responded to this by decapitating his former employee, barely missing my father's head as well.

I was also targeted, three of the mercenaries rushing me, while another stayed back and used his bow. I was unafraid of their mundane weaponry; it would have taken the strength of an orc to break my skin. As if to prove my point, an arrow whistled through the air, snapping in two as it struck my bare arm. However, I was unarmed and unarmoured, and was sure that with a concerted effort the three men arrayed against me could pin me down and hack at me until I died.

In a blind rush, I grappled one of the mercenaries, drawing a dagger from his girdle as he tried in vain to fend me off with feeble swiped of his blade. I then headlocked him, dragging him away from the others and driving the small blade into his temple. When he slumped, I took up his sword. It was of poor craftsmanship, but it was still a sword- now these guys were screwed.

I ducked under an axe blow from one mercenary, carrying on and slashing at the stomach of his companion. My blade struck true, and his entrails spilled out onto the floor, shortly followed by his writhing corpse as he struggled to pull his intestines back into his body. Then I turned to face the axeman. He had tried to hit me a little too hard, and his axe was embedded a good few inches into the wall behind me. I smiled briefly before I cut off his hand as he tried to free his weapon, then I took his other hand. I gave him the pleasure of a quick death, though, splitting his skull like a melon and leaving the crude weapon there.

My triumph was short-lived however, as a piercing pain struck my back, followed by numbing cold spreading through my muscles, stiffening them. I turned rapidly to find the source of my pain, only to see the archer I had previously discounted ready another arrow of frost.

"Oh shi-"

The bowstring twanged, releasing the blue arrow. I was lucky enough to avoid this one, and it thudded into the woodwork behind me. I became casually aware of the pain in my back lessening, only to realise that once more blood from the floor was trickling up my back, closing my wound. I grinned- I had forgotten about that little trick. The cold in my back was still present, but the pain from my wound was gone. Invigorated, I rushed towards the bowman, grabbing his shortbow and hurling him behind me. His foot snagged in the entrails of the man I had dropped earlier, eliciting mixed grunts of surprise and pain from both of them. While the dying man screamed with renewed agony, the archer fell and struck his head hard on the blood-slicked floor, losing consciousness.

He was no longer a threat to me, but there was to be no mercy for him today. I stooped casually, drawing an arrow from his quiver and embedding it in his throat, watching his skin pale and his sweat crystallize. See how _he_ liked arrows of frost after that.

Now I could fully turn my attention to the big fight, between Taurgosz and my father. They seemed evenly matched, but anyone who knew combat could see that my father was exerting all his energy to stay in the game. His beetle-black brow gleamed in the sunlight, his breaths were long and deep. It was entrancing to watch their blades spinning and slicing, hacking and cutting, both of them such accomplished fighters that neither had sustained a wound. Their blades locked, then they disengaged, each taking a step back to assess their opponent. Taurgosz's stamina was proving decisive here, and Garilios Dosan knew that he had to invoke the power of his magical blade once more if he were to stay in the fight.

"Tenhammer, you know not what you face. This blade has slain countless foes in my lifetime, I will not be overcome by one such as you."

He gripped his blade tighter, and a surge of energy penetrated the room, making the hairs on my neck stand on end. Then the Fireblade burst into orange flames; it was a truly beautiful sight.

Despite this, Taurgosz Khosann began to laugh; a deep, throaty chuckle

"Fool" he said, his voice gruff and deep, "despite all of your bravado, Dosan, you are still a fool, just like your brother is"

Upon hearing this, I took a double take- my father had never mentioned a brother. I caught his eye and observed a flash of guilt as my mind screamed against the possibility of my father having a double life.

"The words of a man with no other response to his impending defeat. Actions will speak louder than words today, and I shall be the first to act!"

My father rushed forwards, cutting an arc through the air as he charged his opponent, his blade leaving behind a trail of burnt ozone. Taurgosz parried once, twice, then pushed my father away, his blade somehow withstanding the magical fire.

"Like I said, you are a fool, for you assumed you were the only one here with a magical weapon"

As he said this, his blade began to glow icy blue, and as his swung it in circles it left a haze of shimmering air.

"Now, die!"

Their blades met one more time, but then the Fireblade was suddenly extinguished, its flame sucked away, leaving it dull and lifeless. The fabled weapon appeared to grow heavy in my fathers hands, as if some grievous wound had been dealt to his very soul. With a casual flick of his wrist, Taurgosz disarmed my father, sending the blade spinning away to embed itself into the staircase from which I had come down, not ten minutes before. Ten minutes- all it took for my life to unravel before my eyes for the third time.

Taurgosz planted a giant-sized boot on my fathers chest and sent him to the ground. I could no longer force myself to watch.

"Abdel, take the blade and-"

The sound of a blade cutting into flesh split the atmosphere and silenced his screams. As my father, drew his last breath, I did the only thing I could do- I ran.

I took up the blade from the staircase, feeling its power in my hands for the first time. Without warning, a jet of flame issued forth, setting the stairs aflame and blocking my pursuer for the time being.

With this time, I took my shield and chainmail from my room, opened up a balcony window, and fled across the rooftops. I was panicking at this point, and so my armour was not fastened properly, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that I obey my father's dying request, despite any doubts I now held about his past- I owed him that much at least.

The streets below me were filled with carnage, looters, corpses from both sides of the battle, and fires. It was my hope to use the fire to my advantage- to help me to escape. The streets below were filled with Taurgosz's men, but most of them paid me no heed- they had, after all, no idea who I was. A few fired up at me, but their mundane arrows had no effect, and they soon gave up the pursuit.

Eventually, I ran out of rooftop, and so I dropped into an alleyway and took time to secure my equipment. I had nothing, and I knew it- no gold, and naught but my clothes, armour and signet ring- that and the Fireblade, my father's sword. With the chaos and looting surrounding me, It was a simple matter to escape into the trees, into the forest of Tethyr- but I swore to Bane, god of hatred, that I would return, and have my vengeance.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I took a little creative license with the tiefling characteristics, I hope nobody takes offence to that, I just though it would add an interesting twist (as a note within notes, Abdel's vampiric style regeneration is going to become less and less useful as the story progresses)

Yes, there are going to be adventures featuring the characters we all know and love from the video games, but I'm planning on saving them for other stories, this is just an introduction to all of my characters (there will be 11 of them, so we're in for a long journey, with some omissions of important adventures to be detailed in later fictions)

Yes, Garilios and Angelo are brothers (I can feel the plot moistening already…)

Yes, this story will coincide with the protagonist stories from BG1 and 2

Oh, and Abdel isn't a Bane worshipper, or even religious for that matter. He simply respects the power of the gods and sends his respective pleas and vows to a suitable god, so as to enforce his own will upon himself

Also, for those wondering, here is Abdel's profile

Abdel 'Fireblade'

Tiefling fighter

CN

Str: 17

Dex: 16

Con: 16

Int: 14

Wis: 12

Cha: 13

Also, Immunity to non-magical weapons wielded by characters of Str: 18

Tiefling powers will emerge as we go on.

I'll detail the profiles of other characters as they are introduced


	2. More Than A Little Bit Psycho

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: _I realise I haven't given a specific character description of Abdel yet. Just to clarify, I wanted to give the effect of allowing readers to see the main character any way they wanted, with the exception of the eyes. If you want a character description, say so in a review and I'll put one into the next chapter, rather than breaking the illusion for those of you who want an anonymous character._

Chapter 2: More Than a Little Bit Psycho

And so I fled into the depths of the forest of Tethyr. The air was heavy and humid around me, and it became difficult to breathe once I was more than a few furlongs in. A deathly, reverent silence hung over the place, and though it was unsettling at first, I soon felt at peace with myself and the forest. The silence was still disturbing though, I was surprised not to have been attacked by animals for encroaching upon their territory.

The daylight streamed through the forest canopy, casting a beauteous glow on my environs. The trees were very thick, tall and ancient beyond belief. They were also close enough together in places that I knew this would not be a pleasant place to spend the night alone. I needed to find the village of elves quickly, before the nocturnal predators came out to play. The troubling thing was that my father had not given me the directions to the village. I knew it would be nearby, within the borders, but the forest was vast beyond my wildest imaginings. I suppose now that he had expected a scout to guide me to the community, but none had come- I was passing into elvish heartlands unhindered.

The lack of life was actually disturbing- here and there I could see deer or wolves flit through the trees in the distance, but never come close. The larger wildlife were nowhere to be seen at all. I attributed this at the time to my demonic blood, as my father had often told me that animals are more attuned to the spiritual world than most humanoids. The truth was far more sinister, as I was to find out.

In time I came across a stream, and drank thirstily from it, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that I had not partaken of water in hours. With the sun rapidly setting, I decided to soak in the cool water, stripping off my dirty, sweaty chainmail and cleaning the filth from my body. There was after all, I reasoned, a low likelihood of me being attacked, given the day's precedent. And the cool water _was_ very soothing on my aching joints.

I must have lain there for around half an hour, forcing the pain and exhaustion from my mind, when I heard giggling. I stopped to search for the source of the noise, but to no avail. Then I heard it again. I stood up from my improvised bath and searched the trees frantically for the high pitched, female voices, when two dryads stepped out of the trees from _right in front of me_! Suddenly self-conscious and aware of my own nudity, I scooped up my shield and used it to cover my crotch. This only inspired a renewed fit of demure laughter in the dryads, and I can imagine that by this point I would have looked fairly comical by anyone's standards.

"Mortal," began one of the dryads in a sweet, alluring voice, "Would we be correct in assuming that you are searching for the elven village situated nearby?"

"You would, yes." I replied after a moment's hesitation. It was far too easy to hold a conversation whilst naked.

"Then it seems fate has guided you to the right place." said the other dryad, "This stream provides water to the townspeople; go against the flow of the water, and you shall find what you seek."

"I see, then I thank you for your assistance." I pondered my next words carefully, "Might I have a private moment so that I can properly dress myself?"

The dryads burst into laughter again, and in that moment their faces looked so sweet, fun-loving and innocent. For a moment I wondered what my life would have been like- how different it would have been- had I been raised in the forests. It had been forced into my head at an early age that my existence went against nature, and that I was evil no matter how I lived my life, but now I think it is that kind of philosophy that causes other tieflings and fiendspawn to succumb to the temptation of evil. I felt at home here in the woods; perhaps I should have been raised as a ranger...

The dryads ceased their giggling, "You needn't worry, we witness the nudity of the elves every day- your nakedness was not what moved us to such laughter."

"Then what was?"

"The fact that you are downstream of the village..." finished the second dryad, her voice strangely deep and elven, yet passively seductive. They once again began to giggle as they allowed what had been said to sink in to my small brain. If I was downstream of the village, then that meant I was washing and drinking from- "Oh no, you have to be kidding me..."

"Do not feel ashamed, spawn of chaos, you have not dirtied yourself here. You are in a place of purest nature, and so here the water remains pure for all to drink."

I was momentarily shocked to hear that they knew of my heritage, but should not have been surprised. Dryads are deeply attuned to nature around them, and so can sense the presence of anything living amidst their trees. In a way, it was reassuring to know that even I, the spawn of a demon, could be felt within nature; that I was not an aberration with no place in the great cycle. Once again I thanked the dryads, before asking politely once more that they avert their eyes whilst I dressed, a request to which they- albeit reluctantly, acquiesced, making a mock show of turning their backs while I donned my tunic and my chainmail. I thanked them a final time, and then began to set out on my way, when something terrible happened.

One of the dryads, followed by the other, keeled over and let out a scream of purest pain before bursting into flames and disintegrating. I had my blade drawn in an instant, prepared to destroy whatever had annihilated these beautiful, peacful creatures- but there was nothing. No surge of pain. No impending attack. Only the deathly silence. I quickly followed the stream to where they had told me the elven village was. It was getting dark very quickly now, and I would need to make haste if I were to reach safety and make camp before sundown- I rather doubted my ability to follow the stream in the pitch blackness of the woods. I could feel the woods bristling with life around me, and wondered for a moment whether these were the nocturnal predators I was worrying about earlier or whether the deaths of the dryads had caused the previously docile animals to go mad.

I moved as quickly and as quietly as my armour would allow, and I was rewarded when, a short time after nightfall, I made it to the village unmolested. But even I could tell from afar that there was something amiss. whilst i could make out the campfires in the distance, there was no entrancing, jovial dancing around them as I had expected there to be. There was no happy shouting and singing in the elvish tongue, in fact there was no speech to be heard at all. I had not imagined that elves would retire so early, when the night was still young.

Then I saw it, the biggest thing out of place, that I had somehow overlooked. Drawing closer, I realised that one of the fires raged aroud a tall tree- perhaps the tree of the dryads with whom I had spoken earlier. With my adjusting eyesight I could make out several other felled trees, illuminated by the dancing flames. This screamed of wrongness to me- elves would never cut living wood for fire, especially in such quantities- they had far too much respect for nature to do something like this. As I fumed, my foot caught on something hard and slippery, and I went sprawling headlong into the dirt and leaves. I bit down on my lip as I landed and tasted my own blood- great. Now I had a cut on the inside of my mouth. What was suprising was when I felt something trickle up my sleeve, and then I tasted more blood- not mine this time. My cut was gone, but this raised new issues. Going back, I examined the object on which I had tripped. As I had expected, it was a tree root. What did come as a shock to me was that it was slicked with blood. I didn't stop to locate or examine the body, I had no desire to. There had been a massacre here. In this new light I saw once more the elven village, trees and tents used to start not campfires, but funeral pyres. Here and there lay corpses, missed by the victors of the battle in their efforts to give the dead their last rites. Where before there had been small wooden huts, now there were tents, the housing of the elves torn down and used as firewood so that the victorious invaders could set up camp in their place. I wondered if, back outside the woods, my father and my people were being given these same funeral rites, incinerated amidst the corpses of friend and foe alike.

I made a decision; this deed had to be repayed in blood. Not only was I once more out of a home, but these men had slaughtered an entire village of what I presumed to be innocent elves, and my presumptions were to be proven right when I found that, upon closer examination of the village, several elven women were being kept captive as pleasure slaves. I did what I could to free them, igniting the magical fire of my blade and shearing through the metal bars of the cages they were being held in. Unfortunately, I only managed to free two of them before it became too difficult to sustain the powers of my blade and I was forced to lie, exhausted, amidst the wreckage of a destroyed trade wagon.

Why wasn't I strong enough? Why wasn't I quick enough? These were the thoughts running through my head as I lay, recovering my sense of coordination and balance. If I had only been here more quickly, I could have saved everyone! I could have protected these people!... No- I told myself, such deliberations were meaningless; what's done is done. Chances are that if an entire village of elves fell victim to this attack, there was little I could have done in the face of such overwhelming odds. But this time, now, I was here. And the scum who had done this were sleeping no further than fifty yards away from where I lay, smug and confident in their victory, snoring uncouthly upon their spoils. They deserved to die, every single one of them, and tonight I, a tiefling, would play the angel of death- how fitting. Getting uneasily to my feet, but spurred on by my righteous anger, I stole through the night towards the nearest tent. Silently opening it up, I observed the first of my victims.

He was a human, sleeping in his armour, not an especially attractive man, common looking. Killing him would be easy; after what he had done, I daresay it would even be fun. He was sleeping in his armour, and emblazoned on his chesplate I saw something that moved to even more rage- the crest of the Black Talons- a curved, black claw tipped with frost and blood. However, just as I was about to stick my blade in him, I saw something else I had not seem. Towards the back of his tent was a small child, no more than three years of age. It was clearly his son. I realised I had not the heart to kill a father. This toddler had done nothing wrong, and though the deeds of his father were unforgiveable, I realised that my father too had had some dirty dealings in his past, and I had still mourned his loss. This was when I first saw the Black Talons as what most of them were- poor men doing their jobs, for what pay they could attain. Trying desperately to feed their families. It's a sad fact of life that mercenary work pays well. And the best paying jobs of all are those which nobody else has the stomach to take on- wholesale slaughters such as these.

I turned and left the tent, my business is not that of orphaning young children and ripping families apart. My grudge was not with that man, nor his child. He was simply trying to make a living, as the renegade Fists had done. No, my grudge was with Taurgosz Khosann, who had torn my life apart in a single day. I would track him down and kill him, and then I would find his employers, and destroy them too.

But first I needed to get away from this place of death, and centre myself for what I would do next. Turning, I fled once more into the forest.

***

I took my rest inside a hollowed out tree not far from the village, but far enough to avoid notice by a wandering patrol. As I had no bedroll, it was hardly a comfortable sleep, but it would have to suffice from the time being. I decided to take an hour to observe the actions of the mercenaries from afar, before heading out towards civilisation once more to track down my deadly quarry. I realised I would need a lot more experience before I could best in combat the man who had slain my father, but I had nothing to lose, and everything to gain, where as he had only his career to fight for.

When I made it back to the village, I was surprised to find that the mercenaries were not yet up and about. It was coming close to noon now, and even lazy louts such as the Black Talons should have been awake by now, going about their duties and such. So of course it was with weary resignation that I realised there had been _another_ massacre. In the night, after I had retired, someone had taken the pleasure of doing what I had been planning, and killed the mercenaries in their sleep. These bodies had not been given the benifit of cremation or burial, left to the worms in pools of their own bodily fluids. Their tents had been cut to ribbons, but I did not venture inside- My mind soared back to the young child I had seen, sleeping peacefully, no sin yet on his shoulders...- no!; it was not worth thinking about.

Even the elves had not been spared. The pleasure slaves had not been let out of their cages, but lay inside, riddled with arrows, looks of panic and confusion etched into their dead visages. I wondered distantly what kind of maniac had done this. it could have been the Tenhammer, but why he would want to destroy his own organisation escaped me for the moment, so I put that thought aside. I could think of nobody with the power and resources to have done this. Perhaps a rival mercenary group... but then there would have been bodies from the attacking side as well, and the question yet remained as to how they would have been so easily located. The Iron Throne, or other powerful organisations, would have had the money and power to eliminate a band of men in their own employ, simply for the sake of secrecy, but I had no evidence of a connection between the Black Talon and any other powerful company.

Little did I know that I would have my answer shortly. I heard a shout in the woods and ran to investigate it, and what I saw was the commencement of a beautiful dance of death. Six Black Talon mercenaries stood in a small clearing, three corpses of their number lying alongside them. Even as I took in the situation, arrows thunked into the necks of two more of them, dropping them instantly. One of them came at me with his sword upraised, thinking me to be the source of punishment, but he was cut down by some invisible force and dissapeared into the grass. The other three were now in a blind panic, and for good reason. A long blade swept down and across from above, shattering one mercenary's blade and cutting his throat. Clasping his throat with both hands to keep in the blood, he had barely hit the ground when, quick as can be, a strong hand plunged a poisoned arrow into the collar bone of the penultimate man, sending him to the same fate as his predecessor. the last of the mercenaries turned to run, but there was to be no escape for him today. From the trees above, a figure swung upside-down, wielding two katanas and clinging to a branch by his knees. He swung both blades and decapitated the man, sending a crimson fountain into the air. Then he performed a complex dismount and turned to face me, his footfalls inaudible in the grasses. He was an elf- or half-elf- by the look of things. He was tall and slender, with long blonde hair, and his eyes burned with righteous, passionate anger. He raised his blades and shouted a challenge.

"You, human, do not wear their badge." I assumed he was referring to the Black Talon insignia, "State your business in these woods and the reason for your trespass in these dire times, and I may yet allow you to live."

I sighed: a fanatic.

"I came seeking out the elves of this wood." I gestured around me to emphasise the point. A strange look dawned on his face and he sighed,

"Very well, you have found them!"

Without warning, he attacked. Before I could shout out any defence, he was upon me, his blades spinning almost too quickly to parry. I was able to fend off the first few attacks, but he kept on coming, attacking too quickly for me to catch my breath, or put some distance between us.

"Wait.." I began, swatting away his blades with my shield as best I was able, "I didn't-"

"Hold your foul tongue human, or I will cut it out!" he snarled, slowing his flurry only a little bit to speak, "I have no cause to trust you after what you have done to me!"

"But I-"

"Enough! You will die here with your mercenary friends!"

Now I was starting to get angry. This guy wasn't even giving me a chance to explain myself. His attacks were increasing in ferocity now, each slash gouging a narrow line into my shield. I managed to catch his blades between my sword and shield, then push him away. Then I swung for his head. It was a precise, well-aimed attack, yet at the last minute he ducked under my blade- impossibly fast- and then backflipped away to avoid the backswing, my blade missing his legs by millimetres. This guy was one cocky bastard.

The problem was, not only was he cocky, he was good, and I knew he wouldn't have to think twice before killing me. Yet he was gradually wearing me down, and so I knew I had to act fast. He swung for my head with both katanas, and I attempted- as he had before- to duck backwards under them. It nearly worked, but his left hand blade sliced a short way into my forehead. Fortunately, it was only a shallow wound, and I managed to regain my footing in short order, but it stung like hell and the blood dripping into my eyes made it difficult to fight. Though I had learned a lot about invoking the power of my new blade, I figured that this was one of those times I would have to risk it. I felt the energy surge through me, and watched as my weapon burst into flames in my hands. I opened myself up for a free shot at my shield- which he took, then swung out not at him, but at the blade he held in his right hand. The katana flared in his grip and half of the blade melted, the hilt flying from his stunned hand. I let the flames die, knowing I would need all of my energy to finish him, then caught his other blade between my shield and my arm, wrenching my body to one side to disarm him completely, and I think I pulled his arm out of its socket too.

He screamed in pain, and I used my shield to slam him into a nearby tree, pinning him there with my blade at his throat. I was relieved to see him raise his good arm in what I interpreted as an act of surrender.

"Now will you listen to me?"

"Why should I? Why should I grant you the privilege of hearing you out, when you showed no such mercy to my people?!?"

_'Boy, I don't know where to start!'_ I thought.

"Maybe because I'm the one with the weapon here, and I could cut your throat with a flick of my wrist?"

He smiled, odd given the circumstances, and I wondered for a moment whether he had gone mad.

"Oh really?"

Then I noticed that his injured arm had fallen down to his belt. Now he swung up his arm and thrust an arrow into my stomach. I recoiled with the pain, momentarily lowering my blade and losing my combat advantage. That bought him enough time to drop to the ground, scoop up some loose dirt and hurl it into my eyes. I dropped my shield and tried to clear my vision with my sleeve, and was then surprised when he cut deep into my left arm. The sad thing was that he hadn't even been injured yet, so my vampiric healing was next to useless. The cut on my forehead had sealed from the blood of the mercenaries, but this psychopath had a knack for killing and leaving little blood, so they were of limited use. I had to fight with all my strength to win this battle, but I wasn't sure if I could summon the power of the Fireblade again so soon after having used it before.

I stood up, parrying a blow that would have separated my head from my shoulders, and I realised that I was outmatched: he was uninjured, and much quicker than me. I backed off a little bit more with each blow, and would have been cut in half had I not felt a power come to me, unbidden, from the very depths of my soul. I openede my eyes, not having realised they were closed, and saw that my left hand was aglow with pale red light. Interesting, to say the least.

I had never studied magic, nor had I used it before. I lacked the patience to commit myself to endless hours of studious boredom. I knew I would never have made a competent mage, preferring to solve my problems with cold steel. This, however, was something different. There were no ancient signs or lost languages to mutter, and I soon realised I had no control over what this mysterious energy would do. I immediately presumed that this must have been something given to me by my errant bloodline- what I would later come to know as a form of wild magic.

Unbidden, the light streaked towards my opponent, and he stumbled backwards, dazed. Then I swung wildly for his face as he tried to reorientate himself. As I had expected, he parried me, but only just. His movements had grown sluggish, and I realiwsed that I now held the advantage. While each of us held only one weapon, he was robbed of his sole advantage: his speed. Without that, he was at my mercy. On such even terms, I had only ever been bested by my late father, and by his memory I'd be damned I were to die here. Now it was my turn to go on the offensive, and so I did- hacking and slicing, forcing him back a little further with each stroke until he was nearly at the tree into which I had slammed him earlier. I would have slain him, had my spell not worn off at that exact moment. As I saw his speed begin to increase, I contemplated my chances of victory, and they were not good. I needed to do something to throw him off balance- anything- so that I might deliver the death blow. I considered punching him in the face, but scrapped that idea realising he would probably just sever my arm.

Then I remembered that he too bore an arm injury, albeit one that did not bleed. Capitalising on this, I lunged for his left arm and grabbed it tightly, causing him to lower his blade momentarily- long enough for me to punch him in the face with the hill of my sword. The punch drew blood- not enough to heal my wounds, but the impact was still sufficient to stun him. I needed to finish this now, but I was without a means.

We clashed blades once more, his katana like a hurricane of steel. I held him off for the time being, but knew I had to find a flaw in his fighting style that I could exploit before he wore me down and killed me.

Looking back, I understand that the only reason I emerged victorious was because of the impending Iron Crisis. If my adversary's katana had been a magical blade, one which would have taken incredible power to break, I would surely have died. As things were, it wasn't.

Ignoring the pain in my arm, I gripped the hilt of my sword tightly with both hands, and swung with all my might at the elf. He parried, and our blades slid together once more... before the Fireblade sank about an inch deep _into_ his katana- locking our weapons. I could have just invoked the flames again, shattered his remaining weapon, and finished him, but for some reason, i didn't _want_ to. Something held me back. Instead I took the oppurtunity to look into his eyes- green and laced with yellow spots- and noticed him look back into mine not with the expression realisation of impending doom, but of utter incredulity.

"You... You're not human!"

"That's... That's what I've... been... trying to... tell you!"

We released each other and sank to the floor, coated in sweat and grime, leaving our blades on the forest floor beside us.

"Now do you believe that I had no part in the destruction of your village?"

The elf grimaced; "I know not what to believe, but that you are no human, and judging by your eyes no stranger to persecution yourself, is enough to end our quarrel for now- for am I correct in presuming that you are of demonic heritage?"

Now it was my turn to grimace: I dislike being referred to as 'demonic', it makes me appear evil.

"Well, that isn't exactly how I would phrase it, but yes- I am a tiefling. My mother was a succubus from Baator."

"Interesting, very curious. I suppose now that you are wondering why I tried to kill you?"

'_Yeah, that _did_ cross my mind!'_ I thought. He took my silence to mean curiosity and continued.

"Well, you see, you may have noticed that I initially took you to be a human. I have something of a... grudge... against humanity. Allow me to continue before you condemn me! You see, I was raised by a human father and an elven mother, though I consider myself to be wholly elven for reasons I will soon detail to you. You see, my father was very... violent and abusive. We lived far away from any other contact, on the outskirts of the forest, and so nobody was there to stop him. He would return home in a drunken rage and beat my mother to within an inch of her life- yet still she stood by him, afraid of her own inadequacies, of her inability to provide for herself. When I was a boy, fourteen years of age, I struck back... I... I was protecting my mother..."

He stopped, I could sense that, whether he knew it or not, what he had done that night had sparked a deep inner turmoil within his soul, and whether or not he would admit this weakness, he was struggling with it. Thus I decided to step in and help him, albeit in an unusual manner.

"You killed him, didn't you?" He nodded, and I saw in his eyes a distant melancholy before his face hardened once more,

"Aye, that I did. He was particularly violent and I feared for both mine and my mother's lives, so I took the woodcutter's axe he had left by the door, and I split his skull with it. Afterwards my mother was in a state of shock, so I resolved to take my fate into our own hands. I led her to this village, the one that you see in ruins around you. The elder welcomed us with open arms, outsiders as we were, aware of the circumstances, and I became a ranger, at one with the forest, and I helped to provide for my ailing mother. But I was also much more than that- I was a warrior, I became one with my blades, and in the event of an attack, by rampaging goblins or the like, I took up arms to defend my new family."

He paused in his tale to spit bitterly into the dirt, "The rest, as they say, is history. You see what those simians have done to me, to my family. Everything I once loved is dead."

"You don't know that. Your mother could have escaped, she could be-"

"Are you blind!? Look around you! These brutes killed and burned their way through my home in the night! My people were sleeping! Defenceless! How could any have escaped from such an assault, for which we were so ill-prepared?"

As I contemplated my response, I absent mindedly made a circle of stones, gathered some dead wood, and used a small jolt of energy from my blade to get a fire going. Then I said, "You did the same... I saw the results of your revenge. In fact, I had planned to do as you did, such was my outrage... but then I remembered myself. You didn't just kill your enemies, you killed small children! You killed even your own people!"

"They had been tainted by the humans."

"Tainted?"

"You and I are much alike, you see. Just as you must surely struggle with the taint of your devilish ancestry, I struggle with the fact that I am no true elf, I share this cursed human blood. This is what drew me too you. Humanity is a curse, an infestation that must be exterminated, and through my actions, I will have redemption for my own cursed blood."

"You sound like a zealot! I don't struggle with my ancestry! A man's heritage does not determine his actions unless through his own prior sense of inevitability he allows it to. I consider myself not to be the best person in the world, but not evil- not by a stretch. To be a good person, all I need do is simply believe. I believe in the good inside all sentient beings."

He paused to consider my words, mulling them over in his mind, then asked me a very straightforward question:

"You say you planned to do my work for me. Why? Simply out of a sense of retribution for people you never knew?"

It was with great reluctance that I admitted that was not the only reason, and he sat by the fire and listened intently as I told him of my own personal grudge against the perpetrators of these acts- not humanity as a whole, but the Black Talon Mercenary Company, or more specifically Taurgosz Khosann. Finally, when I had finished my tale, we were both tired from the events of the day.

"Well then, Abdel was it? I feel I should introduce myself: I am Gan Menourar. It seems we have formed what they call, 'an alliance of convenience'. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or so they say. You have given me much to think about, but now we must rest. Sleep at the foot of any tree here, and I swear that no harm will come to you within these woods. Now I must go to retrieve food and new weapons from the ruins of the village. I shall return shortly."

He extended a gloved hand in friendship, which I took. I examined his gauntlet. It appeared to be crafted from leather, but a leather that had yet to be tanned. In fact it was a pallid hue, and very soft and pliable to the touch. I noticed that this extended to his cuirass as well, in fact all of his armour was made of the stuff. Then I also noticed that there were hairs sewn into his armour, as well as several damaged black talon insignias. And so I came to the conclusion that this 'leather' must be... oh no...

I recoiled instinctively from the offensive material, "Is that... is that really..?"

All he did in return was grin. "And so the enemy will know me by the scent of their dead."

"You're more than a little bit psycho, you know that?"

"Without a fanatical zeal, how can we hope to do justice for the memories of our own loved ones? Get some sleep, I shall be back shortly, you'll need your energy for tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Well, my friend, tomorrow we hunt!"

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

_The reason Gan is able to wound Abdel with a normal weapon is because he is a kensai, and thus at one with his blades_

_The wild magic is a sign of things to come... nuff said... (yes I took more creative license with the Tiefling powers) _

_Be prepared for an Abdel vs. Taurgosz showdown at some point in the next two chapters, still not entirely sure where I'm going with this._

_As a non-story-related aside, I'm sorry if I missed any 'C's out, I spilled fruit juice on my keyboard and now C and X jam often._

_Also, I took some more creative license with the Black Talon insignia. The one I chose seemed fitting enough, but if anybody has any better suggestions I'm more than willing to listen. If I like them I'll go back and edit. _

_Also: Gan's Profile:_

Name: Gan Menourar

Race: Half-elf (human)

Class: Archer/Kensai (_interesting mix I know, as well as being impossible in the games: don't flame me!)_

Alignment: NE

STR: 15 (16 when in a forest)

DEX: 19

CON: 15 (17 when in a forest)

INT: 13

WIS: 8

CHA: 16 (5 in the presence of humans)


	3. The More You Know

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _Updates from now onwards until Easter time will be sporradic and probably infrequent, due to my being back at school and being bombarded by my AS levels. Sorry to my fans (that's right, both of you!)_

Chapter 3: The More You Know...

Despite Gan's advice, I didn't sleep very well. He seemed like an honourable type, in his own way, but from what I had seen of him so far I was still not yet willing to trust him. I had planned instead to make sure he was fast asleep and not planning to cut my throat in the night before I would in turn allow myself to rest. It didn't quite work like that. I'm still fairly certain he had no idea I was watching him, as he never mentioned it, but it was safe to say he didn't sleep. It seems I, in my limited knowledge of other cultures, was ignorant of the ancient Elvish tradition of meditating rather than sleeping- a tradition not commonly upheld, but given his apparent mental disposition I should have figured he would share the behaviour of a fundamentalist. Thus I was deprived of my sleep that night.

Our hunt never exactly went according to plan either. We had travelled through the forests for three days before there was even any sign that humans still roamed the woods. Before that, it seemed as though Gan had single handedly wiped out the Black Talon attack force in the dead of the night. Still no closer to tracking down our mutual enemy, Taurgosz Khosann, we shared a moment of mutual relief when, following the stream that had led me to the Elven village back towards the edge of the forest from it's heart a few miles south of the massacre, Gan finally picked up signs of our quarry.

"There!" he breathed through his excitement, pointing at the sparse foliage, "See here how the twigs have been snapped off, and here where the ground has been disturbed!" I saw nothing, but I let him continue, "These brutes made no effort to hide their passage. They did not move as if fleeing, they must have left in the night before I sprung my ambush. I presume they are on their way to report back to their superiors."

I didn't see quite how he was detecting all of this, but the last part of what he said _did_ strike me. If they reported back to the Tenhammer, he would be on his way soon, and I wasn't quite sure whether or not I was ready to face him. My heart burned for vengeance, but my mind told me I would need more training if I was to thwart him. My mind flashed back to my father's death- my father, who had wielded the Fireblade, an ancient artifact of no mean power, had been tossed aside effortlessly; the magic of his sword snuffed out. With this in mind we picked up the pace, and utilising Gan's tracking skills we were able to track them around the outskirts of the forest. This struck me as suspicious- I had expected them to head back to the ruins of the Renegade Fists' base camp. Instead, we were _circling_ the forest, and after an hour or so we were heading back into the deep woods.

"Stop." I called ahead to Gan, who was pursuing our quarry tirelessly, "We need to know where they are moving, not just where they have gone. Otherwise, we only ensure that they stay one step ahead of us. Is there no way from here that you can determine in what direction they are moving?"

He stopped to consider iot for a moment, then said: "There is a method, but not one I am well versed in the use of. It may not function properly in the forest." Having said that, he threw himself to the ground and put one ear to the forest floor. After a moment, he spoke again.

"We were fortunate, the ground here is solid enough to pick up their path. We are being misled by their tracks- they head due East." He stood up, dusting off his tunic.

"How far?"

"Little more than three furlongs in front of us. We could be upon them by nightfall."

"Very well then, let us go." Despite my bravado, I was tiring quickly. Gan was running freely in his tunic, whereas I had the weight of my chainmail to bear, and laboured under the burden of my shield as well. However, every hour or so, I was granted a reprieve as Gan once more listened to the signs whispered to him by the earth, telling him where to find our foes. The Sun was low in the sky by this point, and I knew they would need to make camp soon. Thus, it was with relief that I recieved Gan's information each time- Their pace had not increased, and so there was no indication they knew they were being followed. It seemed their trail-masking was simply a precaution. Now we would find their campsite, kill them in the night, interrogate one survivor and send him defenceless into the woods at night to deliver a message of cold vengeance to his master. It was a solid plan.

It was another two hours after nightfall that our prey ceased their march. The woods all looked the same to me, especially at night, but the trees were more sparse here than anywhere else, and I could hear a stream in the distance. It looked like the sort of place animals might frolic in the daytime, but it was the dead of the night now, and there was nothing to be heard.

On the other hand, Gan seemed to know exactly where we were, as a suspicious look suddenly dawned on his face. When I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong, he silenced me instantly with a hand raised to his mouth. I took the hint- we moved very carefully now, the sound of running water growing ever louder in our ears. The ground was also gradually become rockier, with the leaves and twigs clearing away as we progressed. Eventually, it was like we were stood on a mountainside.

It was only a few moments later that we came upon their camp, and I realised that indeed we were on a mountainside, of sorts. The river I had heard ran at least a hundred metres below our current position, down a steep ravine. The mercenaries had made camp on the edge of the gorge. There was no campfire, nor was anybody posted to keep watch. Thus, silently, we surrounded the five tents and hacked them to pieces, with increasing frustration. This frustration came from the fact that each tent we slashed through was _empty_! There was nobody sleeping there for us to kill- the entire encampment was a dupe! Nobody cried out in pain. Our blades did not feel the meagre resistance of warm flesh. Nothing.

"What's going on!?" I cried, "I suppose they knew we were following them the whole time? They could be back with their master by now!" I was so angry I was seeing red, literally. I became confused only several seconds later when this red haze did not clear. I looked up, puzzled. the trees were cast in a pinkish background. I looked at Gan, and he was glowing a dark green. Where he had trodden, I could see dark green footsteps. I realised I must be seeing into the spirit realm! Twice in two days now magic had come upon me unbidden. However, the realisation that I was using magic brought with it a scarier one-

There were footprints of varying colours_ ALL AROUND ME_!

This was most assuredly not good.

My eyes were adjusting to this new form of vision, and I could now see further into the shade of the trees. I could make out human sillhouettes now, which corresponded in colour to the footprints I could see. Gan looked even more confused than I was, but now it was my turn to silence his queries.

The were at least seven men approaching, but there could have been as many as fifteen. It was difficult to tell, for some of them had souls the same colours. It was really a very limited spectrum. I looked once more towards Gan and attempted to voice my concerns, but now words came out. Frustrated, i attmepted once more to speak, with the same result. Then, focusing all my will towards making contact with him, I saw his essence begin to shift like a writhing serpent. I felt an unquenchable thirst for bloody vengeance, tinged with a great sadness. I realised i must be probing his thoughts. He hissed at me.

"Why did you just violate the inner depths of my soul!?! How did you do that? I demand an answer!" His voice was kept low, but but the malice it bore would have frightened any lesser man. I, however, focused on projecting my thoughts into his, not recoiling from his mental barriers. I sent him a mental message of sorts: 'There are men closing in on us, I don't know how many. Don't ask me how I know this, it will take too long to explain. Circumstances have rendered me inable to communicate with you on the physical plane.'

He was clearly quite perturbed by this revelation, but he did not press the point at the time. Indeed, he was far too professional a warrior to take my warning lightly. Questions, he knew, could wait until after the bloodshed.

The men were emerging from the trees now, and with their essences no longer mingling with the natural harmony of the forest, I could make out their numbers more clearly- there were nine of them. They were, of course, armed to the teeth. One of them, presumably the leader, stepped forwards. He was the only one of them not to wear a helmet, and whilst I could not make out any distinguishing physical features, in my current attunement i sensed in him a motivation more powerful than simply lust for wealth or blood. I couldn't quite peg it, but I felt this man would prove to be an important connection to the answers I sought.

I flashed Gan another mental message: 'Remember, I can't speak until this trance-or whatever it is- ends. You need to do all the talking.' His conscience was now far more receptive to my intrusions, and he acknowledged me with the barest of glances before returning his focus to the mercenary standing before him.

The man drew his blade, prompting Gan to draw his katanas and me to rest my hand on the pommel of the Fireblade, adjusting to movement in this new world of colour and nature. Then the mercenary demanded in a coarse voice,

"You will come with us now. Hand over your weapons immediately and I will escort you to my superiors unharmed."

"Under whose authority?" replied Gan, his voice dripping with ridicule for the heavily armed cohort before us.

"By the command of Lord Taurgosz Khosann!"

Gan threw his head back and laughed to the heavens. "You seek to escort me to the camp of my great enemy, where I shall surely be killed or worse. I think I prefer to simply kill you all!" In response to this, the other eight mercenaries drew their blades, maces and other weapons. the tension in the air grew- these men knew they would not all survive. The leader grinned and sighed simultaneously.

"You will come with us now. Hand over your weapons immediately and I will escort you to my superiors unharmed." he repeated his previous warning, with a tired edge to his voice. Gan merely twirled his blades. I hurriedly drew my sword, readying myself for combat- still stuck in my new spirit vision.

"Your men slaughtered my friends and family and destroyed my home. For that, you die, _NOW_!"

He launched towards the captain in a flurry of steel, each shining razor edge meaning death to any who met it. The captain backpedalled rapidly, momentarily taken aback by the speed of his opponent. Then, a mere moment later, I felt a surge in his spiritual energies. The moment before Gan would have decapitated him, he traced a sign in the air, projecting a blue bubble around himself which deflected the edge of death speeding towards him with a mere 'tchoom' sound. Always at the ready for treachery, Gan merely repositioned himself and began a barrage of light, tapping attacks. It was good to know he knew what he was doing:- The globe of invulnerability would weather a set number of impacts above a certain strength, so by conserving his strength he was actually lowering the barrier more quickly, as it would only withstand the same number of these quick attacks as it would stronger blows (until a strike would reach the terminal point of strength at which the shield would shatter regardless). Indeed, this strategy paid off; within moments the forcefield parted ineffectually beneath Gan's blades as the remaining foes looked on in awe. They had yet to engage, and as I brandished my blade towards them they stayed back, unwilling to commit to a slaughter. The captain fell to the floor, and as Gan prepared to deliver the death blow, I prepared to advise him against it; we needed the man alive, after all. But then I noticed something that made me cast that thought aside: the captain was not afraid. He radiated calm, as if he was in control of the whole situation. I racked my brain for everything I knew about mages, and the only possible answer made my blood run cold.

'Quickly! Out of the way!' I screamed a mental projection at Gan, 'He has a contingency set up!"

Gan responded to my caution instantly, abandoning his _coup de grace_ and flipping out of the way just as a sunfire went off at his feet. Unfortunately, whilst Gan was able to execute a flawless chain of acrobatics and keep himself from harm, I was caught unawares by the edge of the blast radius. The heat and pain knocked me off my feet. I felt the skin on my chest burning, and my nostrils filled with smoke from the burning leather and singed flesh. Worse yet, my chainmail had retained the heat, and was burning lines of agony into my skin. For the same reason I was forced to abandon my shield as I climbed uneasily to my feet.

Looking around, I briefly saw Gan dueling with the captain again, before I felt a mild tremor in the spirit realm. Acting on instinct, I turned and impaled one of the mercenaries who had thought me an easy target. As he slid from my blade, another two stepped forwards, wielding maces. They rushed me as a pair, but I was able to parry their attacks effortlessly- it was much easier to read the intentions of my opponents now that I could see into their souls. They were tiring quickly, and I saw an opening in the defences of the man on my right. I leaned away to the left, then came back and cut his legs from underneath him. Then I pirouetted away from the combat and his falling body, cutting his throat as I did so.

The blood from the two men I had killed had done something to heal my wounds, but not nearly enough for comfort. My chest was still searing with pain- unusual given the amount of blood I had spilled- and the mercenaries were lining up for a shot at me. I needed to improvise, quickly. Only one idea came to me, and I acted on it immediately, igniting the Fireblade. Its powers were much easier to maintain now, but I could feel my insight into the minds of others failing. I would have to act fast.

I swung my blade up to guard above my head, shearing in half the mace destined for my skull, then I hewed downwards through the splint armour of the other mercenary I had perviously engaged. Preparing to kill the other six, I briefly checked to see how Gan was doing. I saw that he had disarmed the captain, and was just about to behead him once more. However, yet again the blade bounced off ineffectually, this time from his skin. I grimaced- protection from normal weapons, presumably. I saw another rain of blows cascade off the magical protection, with no visible result. This level of magical competency was very hard to overcome, and I wouldn't have been surprised if the man could have maintained it indefinitely.

As I was thinking this, I casually brandished my blade in a direction I didn't care to note, feeling it shear through another chain hauberk, only vauguely noting the screams of the dying man, yet fully aware of the sudden absence of life. Another of the Black Talons broke off, supposing Gan to be an easier target. In response to this Gan, without missing a beat, reached behind his back with a single katana and cut off the man's arm. The Black Talon fell to the ground, clutching his bloody stump, while his scimitar spun away off the edge of the cliff. Then Gan turned to resume his combat, but as he faced the captain he realised, as did I, that those mere moments had been all the captain needed. He had already drawn a small tanto from his sleeve, and thrust it into the crook of Gan's left arm. He dropped his katana from that arm, but he fought on, pulling out the tanto and casting it aside.

I noticed now in my urgency that my burns had started to heal. Looking down I saw the smoking corpse of the man I had just slain, his face locked in a rictus of surprise and pain. What caught my attention though was the steam rising from his body, which was penetrating my armour and treating my burns. this was something I found to be very interesting indeed- it seemed that if I was dealt elemental damage, my regeneration could cover that as well provided that I had dealt my foe a similar injury.

No sooner had I realised this than my spirit vision started to wear off. The world blurred around me, and I found myself once more able to see the world in a normal light. Unfortunately, I also found myself on the floor, with my magical blade extinguished and no more strength to summon up its powers a second time. Looking up, I saw the remaining three mercenaries rushing me.

I acted out of sheer urgency now, rolling to the side to avoid a rather forceful sword strike and pulling a dagger from the girdle of the last man I had killed. This I threw upwards so quickly that my target had no time to parry it away, and it went under his guard and sunk into the space between his ribs. He gurgled twice, his mouth filling up with blood; then he fell on his own blade, which made a tearing sound as it penetrated through behind his shoulder blades and he dropped to the earth.

I stood to face my final adversaries. Glancing over my shoulder to the left, I saw Gan was holding his own, but with difficulty. He could barely stave off the magically augmented attacks of his foe, and the few strikes he got in were harmless against the captain's magical protections. Still, I knew before I could help him I needed to mop up the others. One of them was a grimy-looking woman with a flail. As she swung it a circles above her head, I perpared a counter. She swung for my stomach, but I whipped my blade out to the side and entangled it in the chain. Noting the look of shock on her face as she struggle to free her weapon from physics, I grinned. Then I withdrew my blade, shattering the chain and sending shards of broken metal into the air, while the spiked-ball sank into the ground and stayed there. I dealt her a mercifully swift death blow, then, piercing her heart almost melodramaticall, and bloodying my blade once more.

Now I turned to face my last opponent. He was plate-armoured, and wielded a hammer the size of a large child effortlessly. I thought he might have been a half-orc, or something like that. He advanced slowly, sizing me up- then he struck without warning. I ducked under his swing, then had to leap another one before I was ready to, surprised by his speed. The next blow I was forced to parry, and as my blade screeched against the head of the hammer, I felt my wrist jarr. Switching hands quickly, I was then able to deal a glancing blow to the armour around his shoulder, scratching a deep gouge into the plating where it was thick. This was not to be enough, though, as he recovered quickly and swung again, knocking my sword from my surprised hands. Frantically, I looked for a way to improvise. Instantly, I siezed upon my discarded shield. Retreating out of the range of his attack, I scooped my boot under it and kicked it into the air towards my assailant. As I had predicted, he simply smashed it out of the way, but he did so with enough force that it shattered into pieces. Still, the loss of my shield was a fair price to pay for the distraction it offered, as while he was momentarily blinded by jagged shards of metal, I was able to pick up my sword again and cut the head from his hammer, leaving only a wooden pole. He stepped back, aghast, and dropped it limply. Not feeling so tough now with only his plate armour to protect him from my magical sword, he tried to run, but he was encumbered by his armour so I caught him easily and hamstringed him. I wasn't taking any chances with this one however and so I swung downwards again, for his head. Given that I was using my left hand, I think it's an acceptable result that I merely sheared off one side of his face, at the very least it was enough to ensure he wouldn't be fighting any more.

I looked over once more to see how Gan was doing- it wasn't good. His face was speckled with blood, his blonde hair dirty and matted with sweat. He was clearly exhausted, breathing hard, and there was a long gash running down the side of his face. His sleeve too had soaked through entirely red from the wound on his elbow, and he had dropped his other weapon. The captain, as before, was unharmed. Now he reached out and grabbed Gan by the throat, proceeding to the edge of the cliff.

"Now you die." He growled in his coarse, emotionless voice, " And soon your friend will follow you into the abyss!"

As I jogged up to them all I could think of to shout was, "Gan! Get ready to catch the cliff face!" As I said this, the captain dropped him and turned in shock, but not quickly enough to stop me sinking my blade through the back of his knee. His magical defences were no protection against my enchanted blade, and he fell to the ground, his will to fight on broken by the sudden breaching of his spell.

Gan was gone, I presumed that he had managed to catch a safe handhold on the cliff. At the time that wasn't as important as interrogating this man and finding my next lead to Taurgosz. I pointed my blade at his throat, prpping him up into a sitting position so that he could look into the eyes of death as it lingered close to him.

"Tell me where to find Khosann!" I demanded harshly, "Tell me now and I may spare your life" He seemed to be aging before my eyes, looking now like a man who had spent weeks in the desert of Amkethran with nary a drop to drink. For the first time, his dry, cracked lips forced a smile, and he laughed, coughing as he did,

"You should have adhered to our demands" he rasped, "We would have taken you to him..." He trailed off, breaking into another laughing/coughing fit.

"You would have taken us in chains to his gibbet! We are not your prisoners! Now tell me where to find him and I will let you live!" To emphasise the point I pressed my blade harder to his neck, a drop of blood beading on the tip.

"You know as well as I do that the moment our eyes met it was certain that we would not both leave this place with aspirations to a continued existence. Besides, there is nothing else for me to live for." He swallowed and looked me in the eye, "I remain loyal to my masters, even in death."

As I was contemplating a way to force the truth out of him, I was interrupted by the sound of scrabbling on rock as Gan clambered over the precipice, his eyes mad with rage, aggravated by the pain of having scaled the cliff face harbouring an arm injury. Without any warning but a snarl of feral rage, he pulled an arrow from his quiver and thrust it deep into the captain's throat. The man stiffened in the barest surprise, then smiled as he fell to death's embrace. I looked up at Gan, incredulous.

"You idiot! We needed him alive! We needed to know what he knew. Without him the trail ends, we're just stuck in the forest, with nowhere to go to pursue our enemy!"

His face remained composed, "Abdel, I know men like him: zealots; fanatics- he was devoted to his cause endlessly, he would not have given anything. Besides," he said, stooping, "Sometimes we find all the information we need in the form of carelessly discarded personal documents."

With that, he searched the man's pockets, and was rewarded with a folded up piece of paper procured from a less than desirable location- somewhere I would definitely not recommend searching unless you know you will find something good. He unfolded it carefully and read it quickly to himself, muttering,

"It seems to detail the arrangements of our execution in the government district of the City of Athkatla. It has postings for Khosann and his guard, as well as several other reputed businessmen and nobles, or so I gather."

" Let me see that." He passed it over to me. It read:

_Men of the Black Talon Company, each of you have been entrusted with this information on the grounds that you are in possession of talents that our master could use in case anything goes wrong. This message details the execution of Dosan's brat, which is scheduled to be held outside the Council of Six Building in Athkatla exactly two weeks after his apprehension and delivery to the city. Saviol will retrieve him from the forest, after his unit deals with the elves harbouring the scum. Lord Khosann himself will attend the execution, and you must protect him at all costs. Also present will be commander Tazok. Our ultimate master, however, will not be attending, as it puts too much pressure on his profile to be seen in Amn. Tazok is attending in his place. The grand merchants of Athkatla will also be present and if something goes wrong we should take measures to ensure they are not hurt, as it would give us bad press if they learned that young Abdel is in fact _not_ the source of the Iron Crisis. Oh, and one more thing. Angelo Dosan will be there as well. Apply any necessary pressure to ensure he makes no move to prevent the killing of his last remaining kin. We have to ensure he, and the Fist, remain securely in our pockets. Remember, botching this will mean a fate far worse than death._

On the other side of the message was a map with a route drawn to Athkatla from the various places the Talons and their associates had holed up. I noted outposts in Luskan and the Gate, but also one from the site of the elven village, which I was sure Gan could lead us back to.

"Well then," I said, "Athkatla... It would appear we have our destination."

Gan grimaced from the pain again, "You suggest we attend our own execution?"

"Yes... I believe that is what I'm proposing... I wonder what links they could have to the city of coin? And Angelo Dosan? He could be the brother that Taurgosz spoke of... he could be my uncle. We have to attend, immediately. We'll need to find a means of infiltrating the city, but they'll get their show alright- lots of nice death for them. I need to find out what links this Angelo has to my father" Most of this I said to myself, and so I addressed Gan properly. "We'll see to your wounds along the way, with the help of the forest you should fix up just fine. Can you lead us back to the village ruins by sunrise?"

"Yes, I can. We should rest a while there though," he said, getting into the idea, "After all, we're not expected for another two weeks."

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

_Abdel's spirit vision was more wild magic, and it won't be too frequent. I'm sure you already saw some pros and cons, and can think of more._

_To the person who mentioned the Eldreth Veluuthra to me, I will be incorporating them into Gan's backstory, but not for a while yet._

_Sorry there are no new characters, we'll have one soon! I promise :)_

_Also apologies for the delay, as mentioned above._

_So.. on to the big city, where many connections and oppurtunities await. We're just beginning to unravel the tangled strands of fate here, readers! see you there! _


	4. The City of Coin

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _By the time this chapter is up I'll be apologising again for the lack of regular work, but my school blocked this site for no adequately explored reason! I'm as annoyed as you are!_

Chapter 4: The City of Coin

Gan surveyed his surroundings, ill at ease in the city. It reeked to him of corruption and decay- thousands upon thousands of degenerate humans crammed into a few square miles- he was at all times tempted to unleash his rage upon them, slaughter them all. However, he kept his blades sheathed, as even he knew that the business he had in Athkatla was far more important. If he was sucessful here, then he would have his revenge against the Black Talons: the rest would follow from then.

He had purchased a cloth satchel from a vendor for a couple of coppers, and then visited the smithy in Waukeen's Promenade to have his blades repaired and buy Abdel a new shield. That was about all the money he had. Also he had been forced to discard his human-leather gear in an abandoned house in the Bridge District lest he be discovered and imprisoned- after all he had come as a guest to his own proposed execution, not a willing prisoner- and so now he was barely armoured in civilian clothes and a hood.

Nobody gave him a moments notice in the dense urban crowds of the city- such was the only advantage of moving among such filth- but infiltrating the city had been no easy task, even for him. He had been forced to skirt the walls of the city around the gates and climb the wall into the slums. Though the city admitted guests freely, he would have had to be registered as a visitor, and with the amount of guards presumably in the pocket of Khosann, he felt it was a necessary precaution. This, then, was their plan: As guests of charitable factions such as the priesthoods or the Order of the Radiant Heart were under no obligation to give their details, he was to convince a priest in the church of Lathander that his ally waiting outside the walls was in need of their attentions. Then he would begin the weaving of another web of connections in an attempt to convince Taurgosz to come out of hiding, probably by way of false capture. However, should things go awry, he had something else in mind.

He grinned at the thought. Yes, his contingency plan was indeed foolproof, and he dared not even think it too loud for fear he would be discovered by the innumerable agents of his enemy. They were humans as well, making them doubly deceitful. But he was certain he would root them out and destroy them before his work was done.

Such were Gan's thoughts, as he weaved his way through the mass of bodies towards the Temple District, to begin the process that would be the undoing of all who opposed him.

*****

I was forced to wait outside the city walls for some time, with nothing to preoccupy me, before a troupe of clerics, grabed in the pristine white robes of Lathander, came to escort me inside Athkatla. I had managed to win a pipe and tobacco from a grizzled veteran in a game of chance, wagered against the last of the wine salvaged from the elven village. I never smoked much, but it was a habit I had adopted from my father and this seemed a fitting hour.

My forst view of the city of Athkatla was a stunning, one. It was the first time I had ever been in a big city, and the sheer mass of life astounded me. Everywhere I saw people from all classes of life scurrying around to buy provisions or head towards the nearest tavern or temple. Beggars lay on every corner of every street, looking for coins from every passer-by they chanced upon. There were those riddled with disease and old age, veterans from the wars, as well as those who had been fighting bandits in the Iron Crisis. The town criers stood on their homemade podiums, spreading gossip and news alike. More reliable was the talk from the regular tavern-goers. There was talk of mysterious cults of every nature controlling the flow of iron, ranging from the Zhentarim to the necromancers of Chult. More troubling was talk of a brewing war between Amn and the Gate, as the rumours which had reached the Council of Six spoke of mercenaries in Baldur's Gate itself tainting the iron with all manner of artifice.

As I passed into the more affluent areas of the city, things changed again. There was less corruption and decay, but it was still obvious that the people suffered from the toil of everyday life. The people here though, instead of turning to the obvious comforts of ale and tobacco, pretended there was nothing wrong whatsoever, strutting around in gaudy garments designed to throw one another off guard and waste money in keeping up with the common trend. It was a race to be noticed, rather than one of survival. Here and there merchants hawked their goods, often of questionable nature, but this part of the city was really the realm of the nobles: it was immediately obvious as to which of them was only putting on a veil of social respectability, and which of them was truly well-off.

The skyline was dominated by two buildings in particular. To the south was Waukeen's Promenade, the domain of the happy-go-lucky shopper, show-goer or gambler. There was said to be something for everybody there, although it was largely an entertainment district. Towards the north, in contrast, was the Council of Six Building, from where the men with the most might and wealth governed Athkatla with an ever-tightening iron fist, whilst still ensuring that the masses retained the illusion of freedom. Even now there was talk of illegalisation of public displays of magic, and the Cowled Wizards were a growing presence in the government of the state of Amn. However, as I grew closer to my destination, still shielded from view by the priesthood of Lathander, I could see the great temples in all their glory- Lathander, Helm and Talos. Their grandiose monuments stood out from a league away, with impressive displays of magically sustained water and lightning. The stonework was perfectly maintained, the windows were master-crafted:- it was the epitome of futile displays of affluence. It was my thought that any gods allowing such an inherently flawed world to be created were not deserving of worship... Given my company, I kept my mouth shut.

*****

The streets in the Temple District seemed slightly more refined than the rest of Athkatla, and certainly less opressive (though no less ostentatious for it) but it was still the same. The same air of desperation was present, except that in this part of the city people had turned to the Gods for comfort. Putting on a facade of piety, street 'clerics' robbed the poor of their gold to pass on 'blessings'. Elsewhere, within the temples, the true priesthoods demanded rigorous devotion and a lifestyle of which they approved in exchange for their charity. Nothing was free in the city of coin, not even the good will of the Gods. The heralds and criers were also present here, except that instead of spreading unreliable gossip, they talked of even less credible apocalypses and reckonings. Everywhere there was a priest trying to convert followers, or the odd heretic openly denouncing divinity (though they were soon removed).

More telling, however, was the growing presence of armed guards. I was new in Athkatla, but even I could tell that many of the soldiers patrolling this district were unused to their rounds, and unacquainted with the locals. There was much tension building even in the less dangerous parts of the city, and though the civilians and guards alike tried not to let it show, the Amnish looked like they were about to crack under the pressure. Even the clergy were obviously ill at ease with the presence of the soldiery, and they hurried past every patrol as they escorted me to the temple of Lathander.

I could see Gan standing, hooded, in the entryway to the temple. He grinned at me as he made a show of letting us in, then followed. The inside was no less grand than the exterior, with gilded walls and polished floors; gaudy monuments of every kind and expensive crystal chandeliers. Beyond that, the entire building burned with purity. I was almost choked by the lawfulness of the place, but I ensured I kept my composure lest I be discovered for my heritage- after all, I had served in worse conditions. Looking around, I had to wonder how Gan had managed to convince them all that he _wasn't_ a raging psychopath.

I was presented to a young woman, looking to be in her mid-twenties. She had a very small face and red hair. She seemed nice enough, but her attire was telling of precautions against more than just the typical slum thug. She was clad in thin splint mail that I could make out under her robes. The only part of her body that was unprotected was her face, and with the kind of magic she probably had at her disposal, I presumed that was a small price to pay for a clear view. Further still, she was heavily armed, with a mace at her right hip whilst a small war hammer was strapped to her back.

I extended a hand to her and said politely,

"I'm Abdel, the one he-" I motioned to Gan, "told you about. I presume you're in charge around here?"

She refused my hand and instead smiled condescendingly at me, making the moment rather awkward,

"No, I'm afraid Dawnbringer Sain is rather busy at the moment. I am Sister Galena, his devoted student." Typical, stuck with an underling. I much prefer doing my business with the leaders, if I am to dabble with priests in the first place.

"Well, nonetheless, I thank you for your hospitality, as well as your silence. What manner of payment were you promised?"

She looked at me as though I had just blasphemed, or presented her with a dead baby to eat for lunch.

"We are clerics of Lathander, not mercenaries for hire! If that is the protection you seek then find solace with those murderers and profiteers in the cult of Talos!" She paused for breath, then seemed to recover her composure, the smile returning to her face, "Forgive me for my momentary outburst, you must not be accustomed with the way of the Morninglord. We agreed to help you into the city because your companion explained to us your predicament, not because we were promised payment."

"And what exactly did he tell you?" I asked, nervous of any lies Gan might have told without my prior knowledge.

"The truth, I hope... why don't you tell me?" She seemed very judgmental at this point, so I glanced over to Gan. he did nothing but nod at me, leading to assume that I was to be honest with the priestess, and tell her of our plight.

"Very well, then you know that we are wanted men?"

She smiled, indicating that I had told the right story. "Yes, that is what I was told. However, I trust your claims of innocence- it seems implausible that one man, especially one so young, could be the source of all this trouble."

I grimaced internally. _'Indeed. It seems more likely that this is the doing of several individuals far more powerful than I am'_ I thought.

"So, now that I'm here, and thankfully in one piece, it seems we have things to discuss in terms of my next steps. Do you have a conference room of sorts where we can discuss this matter in confidence?"

"We do." She said, shooting me a warning glance no other could see. "Please follow me to the temple antechamber. But remember that while we may remain unespied by mortal eyes, Lathander is always listening..."

*****

Cramped inside the antechamber- little more than a storage cupboard in actuality- we had sat to discuss the matter at hand. Things had not gone well so far.

"What you propose is utter madness!" Sister Galena intoned in a harsh whisper. "We have neither the resources nor the manpower to help you in such an endeavour!"

"No..." I mused, "but you do have the necessary influence, correct? I'm certain hundreds of god-fearing sellswords would be willing to aid me?" I bit my tongue immediately upon uttering those words, having already forgotten Galena's views on mercenary work.

"Yes, it's true." she spat, "But we have not the will to do something like that. Your plan is tantamount to treason! Impersonating Amnish legionaries so that you can upheave your own executions? I can think of no outcome here that would not involve murder of innocents either."

I was beginning to get angry now. "You listen to me, the men who signed my death warrant are bastards! They deserve no better than death! Besides, you must realise that I will find a way to have my justice. I will search for years if need be!"

"Then why don't you?" she said, as if the matter was closed, "I think we've wasted enough of one another's-"

"Because if I stay in the city for long it's only a matter of time before I'm chased out- or worse- by some witchhunter or demonologist! This is my best shot!"

"Witchhunter?" she asked, beginning to get curious now, "Demonologist? Why would those manner of people be looking for you?"

I felt a little bit nauseous when I realised I had said too much. Lawful or not, any cleric would surely have me damned if they knew my nature. I said nothing, only watching as she looked into my eyes and the truth slowly dawned upon her.

"Stay back foul demon!" she cried, standing up and loosening her mace in her belt. I could see from her movements that despite her youth she was well-trained in its use. "A tiefling? Here? In the holy house of the Morninglord? This is blasphemy!"

I sighed. There was naught else to do at a time like this. "So what is your intent then? You kill me? Offer me up as a sacrifice based simply on my heritage? That doesn't seem very virtuous to me..."

"You are demonspawn!" She shrieked, having forgotten her silence. It was only a matter of time before others came. "Your very existence is a blight upon Faerun! I cannot let you leave!"

"And you can't in good conscience kill me either" I said, in no uncertain terms, following as she led us back to the armed clerics in the temple proper. Gan had remained silent throughout. "I have not harmed you, nor do I mean you any harm. I have broken no law,harmed no innocent sentient being. My only crime is that of my blood, and for it I am persecuted. Surely you are not so narrow-minded as to think that it is the nature of a person, rather than their actions, which defines them?"

"You are irrevocably tainted by the abyss! There is no way I can trust you. However, you are right, we cannot simply kill you. There must be another way..."

No other had gotten involved yet, but they were wary and tense, keeping their hands close to their weapons, ready to intervene if things got out of hand. I needed to hurry this.

"Similarly," I pointed out, "If anybody knew you had harboured a demon, the masses would tear this temple down, heedless of the wrath of Lathander. It seems I have the high ground here. You will help me, and I will keep my identity a secret."

"You surely jest!" she laughed, "If you revealed your nature you would be cast from the city!"

"I'm already a wanted man, remember? There are plenty of other places I could flee to." I knew I had her here, she would surely crack soon.

"It's a simple matter of doing what must be done and moving on."

She looked as though she were about to cry under the pressure, and was silent a moment longer. Then she sighed,

"Very well, I will help you, though your original plan is forfeit. Even know the authorities know that you escaped their hunters, and are somewhere in Amn, though they know not where. We must hunt you foe in the wilds. The Black Talons have long been of interest to me, however, and my intelligence points to the devastated encampment of a rival mercenary group just off the forests of Tethyr."

My heart froze, for I knew that must be the former home of the Renegade Fists. If Taurgosz had taken up position there, then all my friends, everyone I had ever known... I knew they would have fought to the last for their homes...

"However," she continued in a stately manner, "I will require one thing to ensure your continued placidity. You must undergo a geas."

At this, both Gan and I recoiled briefly in shock. I decided, however, to laugh it off.

"A geas? Ha! What makes you think one such as you could cast a spell of such magnitude?"

"By Lathander's grace," she intoned, "Every acolyte in this house has the power to make you swear a binding oath to our god"

"Yeah? And how long does it take for your god's approval?"

Galena hesitated. "A while..." she conceded.

"And you really think I would just stand here and let you cast that spell? Ha! You do realise it _is_ within my power to kill everybody in this temple if I am attacked?"

"B-but..." she stammered, "How else am I to know you are trustworthy?"

Gan had had enough of this. He drew his blade, letting it rest at her throat before she could so much as blink.

"How am _I_ to know I can trust _you_, human?" He hissed the last word for emphasis. I was surprised he jumped to my aid so readily. Either he really wanted his vengeance immediately, or he had developed some sort of a bond with me. To be honest, I _did_ enjoy his company.

Elsewhere, the others in the temple had drawn their weapons, and I was begginning to fear. I wasn't sure I could _actually_ kill all of them. there were rather a lot of them.

Sister Galena, too, seemed to want to prevent bloodshed, and she made an effort at making the peace.

"Please, everybody lower your weapons. This can be resolved peacefully."

The others looked around uncertainly, but Gan made no move to sheath his blade.

"You will accompany us." He said in a monotone. "You will heal our wounds, and help us in our battles. There will be no repercussions for our impudence here. This will teach you, a human, to talk of trust."

She sensed there was no way out. If I wasn't convincing enough, Gan certainly was.

"Very well then, I will aid you in your quest. I must say your cause does seem a charitable one, no matter what doubts I have about you. Also, I admit a certain curiosity over the Iron Crisis. I will join you for the time being, but know that I hold no alleigiance to you nor any other than Lathander, and I plan to leave as soon as possible that I may return to my duties."

And that was that. She never left.

**_AUTHOR'S NOTES_**:

_Again, really sorry about the delay, but it was for a valid reason as explained above._

_Not a very interesting chapter, I know, and perhaps rather rushed, but it put in some essential filler. I also concede that it wasn't as long as it might have been._

_**spoiler alert!!: **Next time, big fight! _

_Profile for Galena:_

_Sister Galena_

_Class: _Cleric

_Race: _Human

_Alignment: _NG

STR: 14

DEX: 13

CON: 15

INT: 15

WIS: 17

CHA: 17

_Also we have gan developing some more personality, and whilst Galena may seem a fairly bland character, she has some modifications to do if she's going to fit in around here, right?_

_Not very long spent in Athkatla, but we'll be back!_

_As to Gan's plan, wait and see! ;)_

_Sorry there was no climatic execution scene, but it seemed a little too 'Three Musketeers' to me _(If you haven't seen it, watch it!)

_Similarly, the Angelo connection will be unveiled, I promise!_

_I think that's all folks, will try to update soon!_


	5. Only a Pawn: Part 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _Again, sorry for the delays, hopefully soon I'll be out of this place and able to update regularly... as an aside updates will be infrequent over the holidays, but when college starts again I should be updating more as an excuse to not work ;)_

Chapter 5: Only a Pawn: Part 1

We had left Athkatla under the cover of darkness, stealing a small rowboat from the docks while the guards were distracted by Gan. We made it clean away, the few arrows they sent towards us sinking harmlessly into the waves around us as Galena cast a magical protection around the boat, despite complaining all the time: "I never signed up for theft, what's next? Murder?" more to herself than anyone else.

We chose not to sail all the way down to the Wealdath due to the increasing fierceness of the waves in that region and our cumulative ineptitude at sailing. Instead we moored the small boat just outside of Murann and rested on the shore for a while. Then, before dawn, Gan went off on a mission of reconaissance, leaving me to ensure the cleric made no attempt at betraying us.

I personally felt Galena was trustworthy. Naturally I understood Gan's prejudice against humans, and it could have been down to an inbred respect for the clergy, but I was never exactly treated well by priests, and it seemed to me that she was naive enough to keep her word. She would not betray us, I knew, but would instead serve out her time with us as though it were pennance for her sins, leaving when she considered she had served her time. I had shared this view with Gan, but he responded cynically.

"Then you wait here in case she needs reminding that she hasn't served that time yet." He had said.

I did as he felt was necessary, partly out of a sense of needing to make sure that I was right about her- had I been wrong, I never would have forgiven myself for being so trusting. Gan was gone for the best part of two hours, but my time stewing with the cleric was not wasted. Our conversation, though bitter at first, grew in depth until we had developed a form of trust out of necessity. Of course I had not been the first to speak; I tend not to make casual conversation with those who condemn me out of hand and think I'm some monstrous, demonic threat to humanity. I think she spoke because she craved a deeper understanding of the world, and that was more than the rigourous doctrines of Latahnder's temple could give her.

"Why do you fight?" she had asked me. It was a confusing question, and I thought the most obvious answer was '_for my survival_' but I had misinterpreted her context.

"No," she said, "I understand why you do battle. What I want to know is why you struggle against nature itself. I have encountered many... tieflings, and all of them have succumbed to the darkness of their blood. It is inevitable... so why do you resist it? What makes you different?"

It was an easy question for me to answer, from my perspective. "Because I believe it is a man's actions- not his blood, status or wealth- that define him. I bear the blood of devils, true, but my heart and my soul are those of a man. And I choose to believe I can be a good man, regardless of this accursed blood running through my veins. I choose not to succumb to the temptations of corruption and evil using the excuse that I was born without a choice- that's the coward's way out"

She seemed confused by this statement of bravado, and I was not surprised- it probably contradicted everything she had ever been taught by her prelates and dawnbringers in Athkatla, but this was the world, and I knew that if she were to survive long she would have to dismiss any ideas of uniformity she thought she knew.

"B-but..." she stammered "but the Morninglord teaches that those touched by the abyss are damned from the beginning. How can you stand defiant in the face of fate" Ugh, a fatalist... she had to see the truth soon if I was to tolerate living with her.

"For starters, I don't follow your God. I know that the gods exist and, on occasion, interfere with Faerunian life. However, they certainly haven't been very kind to me. Less than ten leagues from here, everybody who ever accepted me, everything I ever loved, is rubble and ash. This is reality outside your city: death and destruction! I don't claim to be a paragon of virtue, but I would never selflessly serve a society that has done nothing but shun me for an accident of birth. I simply maintain my concept of _honour_. I'm not evil, no matter what your temple says. But ask yourself," I was about to make her question everything she had ever known, "Is this what your God really thinks of me? Or is it the prejudice of the people who claim to serve him?"

She had no answer. While it was difficult for her to accept that everything she had been raised to believe had been corrupted by the selfish ideals of a few powerful individuals- the truth of her religion warped by the shadow of greed- she somehow understood that the tiefling's words made sense. Too much sense for her to not have come to the realisation earlier, and she was overwhelmed with guilt for not having served the Morninglord truly by seeking out the pockets of corruption and helping to eliminate them- for she knew there were those who did, and had dismissed them as fools. Instead she had simply furthered her own position in the temple by doing exactly as she was told, never questioning what or why. How could she not have seen it? After all, what power in Toril could have taken up residence in the City of Coin and not been corrupted by material greed?

"I... I-, thank you... you have given me much to think about. Your questions are important ones, and I have no answers to them yet. I must think about what Lathander truly wants of me if I am to serve him to the best of my abilities. It seems things in the multiverse are not so black and white as I allowed myself to believe. Excuse me, please. I must retire to my quarters and contemplate the answers."

I allowed her to move past me, smirking as I heard her mention her 'quarters'- in reality a bedroll laid out in the scrubland. Some customs are hard to beat out of people. Still, I had won a minor victory. I take no extreme pleasure in shaking the foundations of a person's beliefs, but when those beliefs blind you to what is happening all around you, I take take it upon myself to wake you up before you get us both killed.

As she settled down to rest, I moved behind a large rock out of courtesy, so that it would appear she was truly alone for her silent contemplation of the multiverse. I figured it would be at least half an hour before Gan returned from his scouting, so I pulled my pipe from my pack, tamped in some tabac, and lit it, thinking about the conflicting nature of my companions as I puffed thoughtfully away, letting the breeze of the shore wash over me in the still of the night.

XXX

Gan approcahed the ruins of the outpost under the cover of total darkness. Selune's face cast no light upon the blackness that night. He crept towards the skeleton of a burned out grain silo, bypassing two patrolling guards with such ease that it was all he could do to stop himself from killing them before they could draw breath and dumping their corpses in a ditch somewhere. He passed them, and he caught the reek of liquor on their breath, another reason for him to detest fool humans who cloud their minds with foul liquid. However, on this occasion, it served his purposes perfectly. As he silently slipped into the charred tower, he carefully climbed the splintered ladder, stepping quickly and lightly lest the rungs split beneath his feet and crumble to ash. When he had ascended to the top, he lay prone on his stomach and looked out over the new, _altered_ mercenary campsite. Judging by the scope of the wreckage; and going by the tiefling's stories of the unsurpassed grandeur of this particular outpost (admittedly, not a bar set very high) it had once been grand indeed, more the size of a small town like Beregost, for example. Now all that remained of most of it was skeletal husks that had once been buildings, a scarred, blighted landscape, and a small campsite located roughly in the middle of the wreckage. The ground was littered with splintered wood from the buildings that had gone to feed the endless campfires, left to decay without a care. The trees that seemed to once have grown in abundance in the gardens of the more officious mercenaries had been torn down, roots pulled forcefully from the ground, and sent to burn at the small forges and to be carved into shields, spear hafts, arrows and other weapons of warfare. For a moment, Gan felt a genuine timt of remorse- something he had not felt for almost fifteen years. This place had been home to a band of uncouth mercenaries perhaps, but they seemed at least to have lived in relative harmony with nature. Now that they were dead, an entire grove of nature's bounty had died with them. Nothing but death remained here, and death would soon come back to greet the perpetrators of this crime.

He imagined his companion, the tiefling, would not be very happy about the state of things. Of course he had known that everything he had ever held dear was dead, but to know that it was utterly destoyed, like this? ... That was a feeling not unknown to Gan, one that induces a state of mind in which only one thing becomes important: REVENGE! Gan allowed himself a brief smile, not because another person now shared his suffering, but because he knew what the tiefling's reaction would be. The hatred would consume him from within, until all that had ever touched his life were dead at his knees. First he would have to take care of the cleric- hers was the voice of reason, and she could restrain the fiend's blood if given the chance to see what was happening and take preventative measures. Then he would unleash the beast that lay within, and use the same hatred to gather more like-minded followers. If he succeeded, mankind would finally be brought to its knees. The execution was essential.

With a solid plan having formed in the depths of his malevolent- albeit deeply troubled- mind, Gan dropped lithely from the tower and began his return to the camp, whistling softly with satisfaction as soon as he was out of earshot.

"And the slaughter will come..." he chuckled as he made his way back through the shadows once more.

XXX

Gan eventually returned to our camp, looking the worse for wear. I stood in alarm at his haggard appearance- there was a shallow gash in his forehead, through which blood has seeped to cover the left side of his face. He was staggering, heavily favouring one leg and supporting the other by leaning on the hilt of one of his katanas- the blade of which was stained dark red with blood. His armour was scratched and torn, and two crossbow bolts stuck from his side as if he had simply not bothered to remove them yet- for there were many other such holes in his gear.

"What in the hells happened to you?" I asked as he limped towards us, toying with the idea of waking Galena so that she could tend to his wounds. He grinned.

"I ran into some... opposition... on the way there. A scout patrol. They fought like cowards, and live no longer, though they all begged for their lives before the end."

"Do you want me to wake Gal- I mean do you want me to wake the cleric?" I cut myself short of using her name. I knew he knew it, but he acted as though he didn't and he treated her and those she associated with with critical disdain. Best to avoid that. "Your wounds look pretty bad."

He took on a pained expression at the mention of her, "I would rather die than be subjected to the vile magicks of the human," he snarled, "Besides which, I shall be fine, my wounds heal quickly." On seeing my raised eyebrows (yes both, alas, I cannot raise one at a time) he continued "Perhaps not as quickly as yours, devilspawn, but but quickly enough to be ready for battle by morning, I assure you." I frowned at his use of the word 'devilspawn' but I let it slide for the time being.

"And what of the outpost?"

"Destroyed, all of it. Only ashes and cinders remain." I felt my heart sink like a stone upon hearing these words. I don't know what else I had expected to hear, but I had hoped that there would be _something_ left of my upbringing. Somebody left to tell the tale. Inestead, my legacy was death, as was the wont of fate in my case. No matter my intentions, I left a trail of corpses wherever I went. There was only one rational thing to do now.

"Taurgosz. Must. Die." I growled the words through gritted teeth. Gan simply nodded.

"Good. We should act quickly, before they stumble onto the corpses of the patrol I killed. I propose we attack at first light. They will be groggy from sleep, and their camp will be in disarray. It will be the perfect time to strike at their heart, and kill their leader before his bodyguards have chance to draw their blades"

"Very well, first light it is then."

I all the time we had been talking, neither of us had heard Galena rise from her slumber and come to join us. She gasped in shock as she saw Gan's wounds. "Oh my! What happened? Come, let me heal you."

As she approached him, he raised his katana defensively, wrinkling his nose as though her scent offended him and snarling viciously. "Lay so much as one dirty human finger on me, and I shall take away your hand, I promise you that, human. I am going to my bedroll to rest for the coming battle. Do not disturb me with your futile ministrations in the time being. Tiefling, I bid you a good night. Human, may the graveworms devour your skull from the inside-out." With that, he stalked towards the beds and settled into a meditative state.

Galena made to go after him, but I held her back. "Don't. Believe me, he'd like nothing more than an excuse to kill you. Besides, I can guarantee that his 'wounds' will have healed by daybreak."

She looked puzzled at this. "You seem to put a special emphasis on his 'wounds'. Why?" My only response was to lead her behind the large rock that had previously sheltered me from her meditations. I had learned a form of sign language with the Renegade Fists and could only hope she had similar knowledge of it, for it was imperative that Gan not overhear what I was about to communicate to Galena. I began to sign to her,

_'Can you cast a spell that would shield our conversation from being overheard?'_

She frowned. Then she made an attempt to recall what she knew of sign language, before replying, '_Yes, but what is the need?'_.

I then made more hand gestures: '_Just do it. I tire of speaking in this ridiculous manner, and I would speak to you in private.'_ I glanced over to where Gan sat on his sleeping mat for emphasis, '_I do not wish to be overheard_.'

She too looked back towards where Gan lay, then she nodded, hurriedly muttering the incantation. When she completed it, I felt a barely tangible ripple in the air that let me know that the spell had taken effect. then she asked "Why do you wish to speak in secrecy?"

I pondered the best way to let her know the answer, and decided on bluntness. It had worked on her before, after all, and seemed the best method of dealing with the incurably stupid or the naive. "He is lying to us. There was no battle, and his wounds are false- or self-inflicted- either way, he is lying, and it is critical that he thinks we believe him. This is why he would not let you touch his wounds, although in all honesty he is repulsed by humans, and that is in fact his plan."

"What plan do you speak of?" she asked with a wary edge to her voice, "What does he seek to obtain through your company?"

I sighed, "What else? Revenge. He seeks to bring humanity to its knees. I am, in his eyes, simply a tool- a pawn, if you will. He sees me as potentially being an extension of his will, which he could use as a weapon against his foes. He believes that because I am a tiefling, and by definition shunned and rejected by humans all across the planes, that I would willingly share his goals. He is wrong, but his thirst for vengeance has driven him to madness, and it has clouded his vision. He sees only what he wishes to see in my intentions, for his vison of the world is so complete that he cannot help but see the pieces of his plan fall into place _exactly_ as he had intended."

Galena looked shocked by my revelation, but her expression quickly changed to one of concern, "How long have you known about this?" she asked.

I sighed. The truth was I had known of Gan's intentions all along, although I had not realised what I knew until I had shared his company for a few days. "I... hmm..." Boy, was this hard to explain. I had to find a way to ease into it.

"I met his father once, you see. Not his blood father, the human drunkard, but the elf who was a father to him as Garilios Dosan was a father to me. He came to our camp once, as an emissary, bringing his 'son' with him. He looked different then, more at peace with himself. There was less hatred in his eyes, which is why it took me several days to recognise him, and understand just whose company I was in. GaeusMenourar was a wise man, and my father and he held one another in high esteem. He told me once that my father was the only human he could ever respect, and by extension our company would be allowed to live in the shadows of the Wealdath. However, my father later revealed to me that Gaeus held a dark secret- He was one of the Eldreth Veluuthra."

She frowned, "Eldreth Veluuthra? I've heard of them..."

"They're a fanatical cult of elves dedicated to the total removal of humans from Faerun" I said, letting the gravity of such a cause sink in as realisation dawned on her face.

"And you say that Gan is one of them?"

I chuckled, "Oh no, he lacks the focus to be Eldreth, he is far too outspoken in his beliefs. Among non-elves, they are very secretive about their goals. Besides which Gan is half human. He would never be readily accepted by them for he is 'tainted' by his heritage. For this reason, and because of the danger such an unstable mind would pose if it had the focus of a cult, I believe that Gaeus kept the Veluuthra a secret from him. As I said, he was a wise man. Nonetheless Gan's resentment is a powerful force, if harnessed correctly, but unbridled it could consume him."

She looked confused once more. "But why all the hatred?" she asked, "What great crime did humanity commit against him?"

I sighed, Gan's tale was a sad one, known to me long before my adventures. My father had warned me of such fanatics a long time before his death, cautioning that I could easily be mistaken for a human in their midst. '_Where to begin?_' I thought.

_Gan's Story_

First, you should now that humanity took everything from him. Gan's mother, so I'm told, was once a strong, brave and beautiful elf maiden, who fell in love with a bold Luskan soldier who fought great battles against the enemies of of the elves. They married, and moved south to Tethyr, but over time they years and the drink dulled his mind. He lost himself to rage. He became violent, and Gan's mother had her spirit broken. Where once she was strong and independent, now she was humble and meek. As a result of humans, Gan was forced to watch his mother's strength beaten out of her time and again. But this was only humanity's first of three crimes against him.

When he was stronger, at the age of about fourteen years, his father flew into a rage again. Unable to bear it any longer, he took advantage of the man's inebriated state and put a dagger in his back, ferrying his mother away from their solitude to a small elven village in the Wealdath. They were accepted by the village elders and one of them, Gaeus Menourar, began to court his mother. With him, she seemed to regain some of her old composure, and while she was still not strong, she started to find joy in life once more.

The second crime commited against him by humans is one he has no memory of, but Gaeus knew of it, and I overheard him telling my father. When he was off hunting, as a test of his adulthood at the young age of eighteen, he was set upon by Amnish hunters. They thought him an easy target- alone and unarmed- and their blades had not tasted blood for many months. They began to beat him, throwing him to the ground and kicking him to a pulp. He would have died that day, but the experience conjured in him memories of his blood father. Just as the first hunter was about to draw his blade and end Gan's life, Gan stood. All five hunters were dead within seconds.

Gaeus found Gan two days later, unconscious in the woods among the bodies of the men he had killed, but when he awoke, he had no memory of it. The memory still exists, dormant, eating away it his subconscious mind, causing him to enter violent battle rages from time to time

The final crime against him was committed only a few weeks ago. I can recall this better because I was _there_. Having lived peacefully for a time in the elven village, Gan's life held promise. He was a deadly warrior, and one of the finest archers in the region, even by elven standards. However, not long ago, Taurgosz Khosann's Black Talons attacked his village while he was away hunting. They pillaged, raped and burned. They hacked trees from the earth and destroyed sacred symbols. Not man, nor woman nor child was spared. Everything, every single person he ever held dear, was killed in that attack, and his home destroyed- or so he thought.

Know that Gaeus Menourar still lives. I conducted a search of the corpses there and would easily have recognised his facial tattoos and religious markings. His body was not numbered among the dead. I find it likely that he fled the village, ferrying Gan's younger siblings Freya and Dehi to safety. However, I have asked Gan questions about his foster father, and he knows nothing. The name Gaeus sparks not even the vaguest memory in his mind.

My theory is that before the attack, Gaeus erased some of Gan's memories. He would have gone to the Eldreth Veluuthra to shelter his children from the attack, and Gan would not have been given shelter because of his mixed heritage. Thus he removed those memories of himself and the other childen so that Gan would not attempt to follow them, only to be condemned by his own people. It would be too much for his already fragile psyche to cope with: it would not have been the first time Gan had killed family. It is also possible that those memories were erased because asking around about Gaeus Menourar could easily lead to Gan uncovering his link with the Eldreth Veluuthra. Either way, I believe they are a sect that Gaeus wanted him to know nothing about.

Regardless, after the attack, I found him knee deep in the dead of the mercenaries, wearing a tunic stitched from the flesh of his foes. Death followed him like a shadow that night. His mother, sadly, numbered among the broken corpses that night. She remained to shield Gan and cover Gaeus' tracks, such was her devotion to her new family. She was among the first to die.

XXX

Galena sighed in exasperation. "'Tis a sad tale indeed," she said, "but much remains to be explained. For instance, I still do not see why he would fake an encounter with a patrol..."

Now it was my turn to sigh: How could she not understand this yet? "Because these same mercenaries who took everything from him did the same to me, he believes I share his resentment. To an extent, he is correct, although he misunderstands the nature of my anger. While he directs it at the human race as a whole, my anger is only for Taurgosz and his men. Regardless, he staged an attack because the presence of the enemy would force us to attack in haste, and he believe that in acting hatsily I will be caught in the heat of my anger." I sighed once more, this time with regret. "I was indeed saddened to hear of the total destruction of my home, but it is what I had come to expect. The first lesson of warfare, as taught me by my father: People die in war- there are always casualties. All that is left for the common soldier to do is to fight best and hardest to protect that which he holds dear. Nevertheless Gan _is_ dangerous, and we should watch him closely both before and during the attack."

Galena opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. She looked as though she was pondering what she was going to say. Then she asked, slowly, as if each word pained her "If he is so dangerous, then why... why not... kill him?"

At this I laughed, both at her naivety and her reproachful attitude towards killing. I shook my head, smiling. "Have you seen him fight?" I asked, incredulous, "The man is a hurricane of sharpened death. It would take me much of my strength to kill him. Other than that, I believe he can be saved. This is pertinent the discussion we had earlier. Gan is in deep, but not too far gone, I think, to be saved. My question to you is: will you help me? Do you have the faith?"

Galena looked worriedly at me for a moment, biting her lower lip nervously. Then she nodded stiffly. "Okay, I'll help. What do you need me to do?"

I grinned. "Good. Here's my plan. First we need to..."

_**AUTHOR'S NOTES**_**:** _I know I've been promising a showdown with Taurgosz for a while now, but I promise it will happen next chapter. I kinda had a completely different plan for where this chapter was going, and then the idea for where to fit Gan's subplot finally hit me- Special thanks to Ipsissimus for letting me know about the Eldreth Veluuthra. Anyway the chapter would have been too long had I kept it as it is AND added Gan's story, so I divided it. The title WILL remain relevant _

_Sorry I took SOOO long._

_We have some character developing in Galena, her reactions to what our intrepid heroes encounter are going to be interesting indeed. She may not look like much, but she's a very important plot device._

_To those who were wondering and/or figured it out: yes I'm planning on having one of each major class, so we are still expecting- paladin, barbarian, monk, thief, bard, druid, mage and sorcerer. Some of these characters are very well developed, whilst others I have no idea how to incorporate. This, however, is my problem. Let me worry about that while you worry about more important things. Like when I'm finally going to update :P_

_I'd be very interested to see people's thoughts on Gan's situation- I've already decided which path he will take, but I'd like to know what my readers think he should do. Best suggestion gets a spoiler! _

_I don't care if you think it's a deus ex machina that Abdel knew Gan's adoptive father! I honestly do. Not. care! I planned _that_ from the very beginning, it's not just convenient._

_Also I won't listen if you say Abdel 'Doesn't have the wisdom to figure it out'. He already knows, and wisdom affects what you_ don't_ yet know (in my eyes)_

_The above comments may have seemed defensive, but I've been flamed for my writing style before. Sorry :)_

_Also, while it may seem that Abdel and Gan are evenly matched, we're going to see just how deadly Gan is next chapter, provided I don't have any more brainstorms (think 'Ignus' from Planescape Torment) It won't be easy to win him over._

_I still appreciate your reviews, and I'm still listening for good, honest criticisms in my_ writing_ style. The way I see it, how I tell the story isn't an issue or I wouldn't have readers (am I right?)_

_In addition, I have some stats for the Fireblade for those interested in creating it for some in-game function: _

Bastard sword +2 'Fireblade'

Damage: 1d10 +2

THAC0: +2

Special: when its power is invoked, adds 1d6 + 3 + user's level fire damage. Can only remain active for 1 round per level of the user.

_I think that's everything, but if you have other questions, message me!_


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